


Pocketed

by Bleach_ed_Na_tsu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, OLDER!TSUNA, neo vongola primo, neo-primo vongola, ninth boss, non-canon, reborn is annoyed, tsuna is an adult, tsuna is still a mafia boss, vongola boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:25:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu/pseuds/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu
Summary: Tsuna loses his wallet. Not terribly concerned because he’s verging on bankrupt and doesn’t even own a home, he simply cancels his cards and moves on. Except suddenly furniture and food turn up at his rented basement apartment. Apparently, a mob boss found his wallet, and wasn’t too pleased by Tsuna’s predicament.





	Pocketed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rhaxe).



> A little prompt by a friend, Rhaxe. It’s her fault I’m not working on something else.

Tsuna patted down his pockets just as he boarded the bus home. His brows pressed together, and a hand raised to his temples before he sighed and took a seat near the back doors. He’d been getting a few tins of beans and a bag of flour that afternoon, and he was lucky that he kept his bus tokens in a keychain on his house keys. Because, and he searched his pockets again, his wallet was gone.  
“What a day.” He sighed as he pulled his old, broken phone. He’d had it for four years, and even though the screen has a small crack it worked well enough.  
His ride home – all thirty-four minutes of it – were spent cancelling his debit card, his ID, and the few points cards he had registered that were close enough to getting an entire load of groceries. However, by the time he stepped off the bus and made his way to the dark basement apartment on the edge of town, Tsuna was already past losing his wallet. He didn’t have any cash, and all the cards would be sent back his way, his only anxiety was over his ID card, which might cost him an additional $35, and that was something he really didn’t have.  
He didn’t really have anything really, he thought to himself when he locked his front door. He had a bachelor apartment, his couch was his bed, and his closet acted as his pantry. He had an old laptop gifted to him about 8 years ago, and only three pairs of shoes -one set were winter boots, and one were dress shoes from his father years ago. So, the only thing that upset Tsuna about this whole situation, even as he put the tins in his cupboard was that he had saved up for that wallet, a cheap leave bi-fold from a lovely lady down the street.  
“At least it wasn’t my keys.” He thought glumly as he walked to his bed to watch some YouTube before bed, he couldn’t afford cable, or even Netflix, so YouTube would do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mochida was a pretty low man on the hierarchy, he didn’t mind it exactly, he didn’t work for the worst guy in the world, he actually worked for the best. The best Hitman in the world anyway. The man had arrived in Namimori years ago, searching for something, someone, and had decided to create his own little crew to do his dirty work.  
It wasn’t bad, the man beat him senseless when they were training, and he was a lazy son-of-gun, but he was strong. He didn’t kill that often, and usually kept that stuff out of the view of the kids he kept off the streets with his tasks. Mochida was twenty and honestly Reborn’s arrival in his life probably saved him from a terribly painful life of drug abuse and torture at the hands of the Yakuza that used to skulk around behind the Hibaris’ backs.  
Now Mochida was a little higher up than the street-kids, but he wasn’t beyond menial tasks. Like the one he was doing now, walking the streets to find lost things of importance. Wallets, watches, car keys, sometimes he even found wedding rings, heirlooms, and safety deposit box codes or keys. Anything that could be bargained with the owner for money or services. So far he had picked up his fair share of keys and wallets, even the keys to a Maserati. A fucking Maserati! With that he headed back to unload his spoils for the day, then it was off to the dojo to train the brats.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reborn was pretty bored, he’d been on the trail of a few people in this little town for more than five years, on the recommendation of Timoteo of course. No one else would have been able to make the Greatest Hitman stay in one place once he was bored, but Timoteo had been insistent.  
And for the most part, it had been fun. He had cleaned up the town, steered clear of the Hibari family prowling around, and made himself a nice little underground ring. It was profitable, and left him free to pursue every other hit, hobby, and heist. All he had to do was bring every ID to Timoteo, the money he found, the car-keys, the insurance policies, they were Reborn’s to do with as he wished, and he quite liked it.  
Everything changed through on his way to his fortnightly meeting with his boss. The old man was as spry as usual, chipper to be on Japanese ground, hallowed in the Vongola famiglia given their Ancestor’s own histories. Timoteo had four sons, strong, beautiful sons, all with such vastly different abilities and strengths, each fighting and figuring out where they belonged in their vast famiglia. Even Timoteo’s adopted son found his place, in his own Assassination Squad.   
“Reborn, my good friend,” Timoteo stood and greeted Reborn as the man entered their meeting room, they exchanged their cheek kisses before Reborn unbuttoned his jacket and sat on the couch opposite the 68-year-old man. “Something tells me you will have very good news for me.”  
“I have the same news as always for you, sir.” He laughed, handing over the stack of thirty ID’s. Curious about what that fabled Vongola Hyper Intuition was telling the old man. He was even more curious when Timoteo suddenly stopped flipping through the card. And started laughing. “There’s no way anyone’s name is that funny, old man.” He huffed, standing and walking around to read the name of the person who sent Timoteo into hysterics.  
“Oh no Reborn, he isn’t funny. This is exactly who I’ve been looking for. Which means your contract will need to change.” He smirked, holding the ID of a twenty-year-old, brown haired young man. An unassuming Japanese man, with features that placed him as someone with non-Japanese ancestry.  
Curious, but not opposed to something more interesting in his contract, Reborn bites. “If you had given me his name, I could have found this kid for you years ago, since you obviously knew he was here.”  
Timoteo just laughed, holding one Tsunayoshi Tetsuya Sawada’s ID card with a sudden fondness. He looked to Reborn with a twinkle in his eyes, as if he knew the universe’s secrets and was absolutely thrilled that Reborn was about to learn them too. “You will see my friend, that this boy, right here, would have evaded you had we ever tried to focus on finding him. And now, it’ll be your job to catch and train him.”  
“Catch and train him? Why?” Reborn asked incredulously.  
“Why? Because he is to be my Heir. This, right here is the late CEDEF’s son, or more importantly he is Giotto’s descendent.”  
“Fuck me.”  
And Timoteo laughed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reborn hated -absolutely loathed – when Vongola Nono was right. There was nothing that frustrated the world’s greatest hitman more than when he didn’t know something, and someone had to tell him. Especially because he was a stubborn bastard when it came t the Vongola Boss and had to experience what he said before he believed it. Damn that Hyper Intuition.  
“Oi Kensuke!”  
A bang, a crash, and curses careened around the corner as the tall, brown haired man appeared. He shook out his hand and stuck his finger in his mouth before addressing the irate hitman. “Whd-ooh-wan?”  
“What have I told you about using your words, you’re not a Neanderthal.” Reborn bit out before shoving a photo in the young man’s face. “What do you know about this kid?”  
Grumbling, Kensuke looked at the image before scoffing in disbelief. “Firstly that’s not a kid, he’s twenty, just turned twenty I face. I was at his party in Takezushi about two months ago.”  
“You know him?” Reborn said, with a tone that suggested that Kensuke rarely knew anything useful. Which was a terrible overstatement, Kensuke thought he was quite the informant.  
“Course I do, he was a real idiot in school everyone knew him. But I ended up in class with him in highschool. He grew up pretty well, unusually intuitive though, for a civ.”  
Reborn just groaned before storming off. ‘Unusually Intuitive!” the boy had avoided, misdirected, and just plain ignored Reborn at ever turn – more infuriating than that, the boy didn’t even seem aware that he’d done it!  
As if sensing Reborn’s ire, Kensuke yelled after the Hitman, hoping to help somehow. “From what I remember though he hasn’t been very lucky finding work. He’s broke. Like shit broke!” When the hitman didn’t even pause, Kensuke hoped he was right, after all when Reborn was irate training was even more fucking brutal than usual.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kensuke was right about something, in general he was pretty right. Tsunayoshi was a financial disaster. In a bachelor basement apartment, didn’t even own a computer, and had a school debt from business management with a side of wildlife management of upwards of thirty thousand dollars.  
He had a part time job barely keeping him in his home, and typically bought his food in bulk on sale day. His fridge had some sad looking fruit in it, otherwise there was nothing.  
Reborn was absolutely appalled at the state of living. But it gave him an idea. So, sooooo many ideas.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tsuna woke up to a phone call. A phone call from the bank. While he usually wouldn’t answer because they usually wanted to increase his interest rates, tell him that his account was locked, or just in general tell him he should file bankruptcy, something was different this morning.  
“Good Morning Sawada-San, we are calling to thank you for your business, and to congratulate you on paying off your debt! We are honoured for your continued business with us and congratulate you on your new job. Of course, this means your accounts are unlocked, and we extended both your credit and overdraft amounts, for you to use at your leisure. We of course will be here to answer any questions and are honoured to hold your business. Thank you again, Sawada-san. Have a good day.”  
Confused, terrified, and absolutely believing he was dreaming, Tsuna grabbed his phone and waited the grueling 3 minutes for the app to open.  
Low and behold all of his accounts were cleared, and in fact, his bank account had a significant sum of excess money sitting happily in it. As if Tsuna hadn’t been over fifty-thousand dollars in debt less than 5 hours ago when he’d last checked. Heart racing, Tsuna was about to recall the bank to try to figure out what happened when there was a knock on the door.  
Terrified, Tsuna answered the door to a chipper man with a package. After signing for it, Tsuna opened it. Inside sat a brand new top-of-the-line cell phone and a letter.  
“Tsunayoshi Sawada,  
Your financial situation frankly is atrocious. Due to the benevolence of my boss I have been tasked with ensuring you have enough money to pay off your debt. You also needed a new phone. You can expect more in the coming days.  
Your benefactor is one Timoteo Vongola, Ninth Boss of the Vongola Mafia Family. Italy.  
Be grateful we didn’t shoot you first.  
Kindly,   
World’s Strongest Hitman  
Reborn.”  
Tsuna spent the rest of the night convinced this was a dream, a nightmare, or a starvation induced fever dream. He started hyperventilating and spent the rest of the week – the two days left – convinced he was going to be killed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the rest of the week nothing happened. Except furniture kept being delivered.   
Like every day, something new.  
A new bed, a new cough, a nice TV and entertainment unit. Even the new game station that Tsuna had been dreaming about for years.  
Tsuna was beyond fear, beyond relief. He was so fucking stoked for life right now. And he swore he would do anything to repay the men who made life seem good for once.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

About a month later, Tsuna had a new apartment. A nice kitchen, a small car, and even a savings account. He was so incredibly happy, so incredibly beyond stoked. He had started working, volunteering, and even had the chance to get to know his lovely neighbors and help them with their cats.  
However, it was a Sunday, and he was exhausted. Exhausted, and sick of the hammering on his door, Tsuna rolled off of his couch and answered it. Tall dark and handsome pretty much shoved his way in, looked around with a nod and sat on Tsuna’s couch as if he owned it.  
“W-Who the hell are you? I didn’t even invite you iN!” Tsuna screeched, finally awake after a stranger barged his way in.  
The stranger raised an eyebrow, pulled out a mug of coffee, and gestured to the other side of the coffee table as if he owned the home. “I’m the one whose been sending you the money, food, and furniture. Now sit the fuck down.”  
Not one to question his saviour, Tsuna sat quickly, curious and suspicious of this stranger. A man, who in his letters, identified as a hired killer. “Okay, so I guess welcome, thank you for saving my ass. What do you want in return?”  
Reborn grinned, and Tsuna got a distinct feeling that he was going to regret that question.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Reborn didn’t waste much time, after finishing his coffee and giving Tsuna a basic run down of what he was doing in Namimori, he quickly dragged the young man across town in a very fancy car. They stopped at one of the largest estates in the town, an old manor house once owned by the lord of the lands before the Hibari’s took over.  
“I want to give you this house.” Reborn explained, for a price of course.”  
Tsuna nodded, awed by the beauty of the yards, the home, the fucking kitchen. He wasn’t really listening to Reborn as the man walked him around. Until the ultimatum came up.  
“-yours, if you agree to become a Vongola heir and sign your life over to my boss.” Reborn finally said, stopping at the dining table and placing a gun, a ring, and a contract on the table before sitting.  
“You’re telling me,” Tsuna started- staring at the contract, hand-gun, and ring sitting on the table, “That you will give me this house, all paid for, for the rest of my life, furnish it, and pay off all my debts -pay all my expenses actually- and all I have to do is sign myself over to this Vongola famiglia?”  
Reborn huffed a little, not able to read this boy, just like Timoteo because of the damned Vongola Intuition and those damnable Sky Flames altering his perception. “Well no,” He began as Tsuna raised an eyebrow, “we’re asking you to be the boss of the Asian branch of Vongola, a sister branch, a boss in your own right, Neo-Vongola Primo is you will. You will be trained in Italy for a few years and then essentially you will act as our sister-branch, running your own famiglia as you see fit, making your own contracts, getting your own guardians. The whole she-bang. All you must do to keep this house – probably get a bigger one actually – is sign your life to Vongola and promise you and your off-spring will never try to usurp the Main Vongola Branch in Italy. The world’s yours to do with as you will you just can’t-“  
“Where do I sign?” Tsuna asked, pen in hand and contract on the table. He had read it while Reborn was talking, and now he wanted it signed.  
“Wait! W-That’s it?” Reborn exclaimed, eyebrows crashed together, bewilderment in his voice. “No screaming, no arguments, no clause changes. You’re just going to accept it?”  
“Pft – Reborn, have you seen the economy? I’ll never be afford to eat, or live, or even own more than a shoe-box with a fridge in it if I didn’t accept this offer. AND on top of room-board-and meals included you’re offering me job training and the opportunity to be a CEO of my own business. I’d be an idiot not to accept. So. Where do I sign?”  
Reborn almost punched the boy before him. Nineteen, a whip of sarcasm and humour, and a little too confident and flippant with his life if he was fine signing over his and his offspring’s future to the mafia without a thought. But even as he showed Tsuna where to sign, all Reborn could think was: “Fuck Timoteo and fuck the Vongola Intuition. Now I owe the old man that bottle of cognac he’s been asking for for the past 6 years.”  
But in the end, Reborn as always completed his job on time, and without a single deviation. All parties were happy, and Japan didn’t know what was about to hit them.

**Author's Note:**

> What a fucking ride that was to write. I’ve never tired something gimmicky like that, and maybe it turned out too flippant, but the meme was pretty obvious about the mood so I just went with it.  
> I hope you liked it Rhaxe, and I hope you liked it too dear readers.  
> ~~ Natsu :3


End file.
